


Starting Over

by AzzyWinchester



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dark Past, Death, F/M, Graphic Description, Healing, Kidnapping, Personal Growth, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Regret, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzzyWinchester/pseuds/AzzyWinchester
Summary: After the events of Captain America: Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes found himself hiding in Romania, trying to keep himself hidden from both Hydra and Steve. His life had calmed down, he'd settled himself in a small apartment and was living a quiet life. That is until he found himself mixed up in the life of a girl just as traumatized as him, just as broken. When he first met her he would've never imagine he'd end up where they ended, but he can't say he didn't enjoy the company.A girl with no family, no home and no one to look out for her finds herself in the clutches of the worst monsters she'd ever seen. They took her far away from anywhere she'd ever been and forced her to endure much more then she thought she was capable of enduring. She thought her life was over, she was as good as dead, until she met the man with the metal arm. He saved her life, yet she still finds it hard to completely trust him.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. The Accident

Her eyes snapped open and she grabbed her head as pain radiated from her skull. She looked around and realized she was in a large green clearing, a wrecked car merely feet away. She tried to stand up, but crumpled back onto her seat on the soft, wet grass. She held onto her leg as pain coursed all the way from her toes to her hip, she looked down. She had a large gash on her right shin, blood streaming steadily from the wound.

There was a man lying unconscious through the windshield of the car, the driver, she recognized. His body was attached to the vehicle by the bottom half of the broken windshield, a lake of crimson pooled out all around him. There was one more man that had been with them inside the car, but no matter how hard she looked, how far she craned her neck, she couldn't see him. That worried her. He could be out there, he could find her. He could take her back.

She didn't want that to happen. She couldn't allow herself to be taken by those monsters again. She took a deep breath and stood up, putting as little pressure on her hurt leg as she could. As much as that helped her to stand, it was still hard for her to move; after all that they did to her on top of the wreck, her whole body felt like it was on fire.

Her head felt like someone was trying to punch their way out of it, her stomach burned with no mercy, and her leg felt like it was going to give way at any moment. She needed to cover the open wound on her leg, but as she looked down at herself she knew she had nothing she could take off. They had put her in a flowy light pink dress that went to mid-thigh and a pair of white sneakers. Maybe she could find something in the car, even if she had to take the shirt off of the dead man.

She limped her way to the totaled car and climbed into the open door, which she assumed is what she had come out of. She rummaged through the backseat, not finding anything that would do her any good. She pulled herself through the gap between the seats and hissed as broken glass dug into the skin of her hands and thighs.

She knew that the car was a rental and that the drive from the train station to wherever the hell they were taking her wasn't supposed to be very long. With that in mind she wasn't expecting to find too many things that would be helpful. She grabbed a red scarf from under the driver's seat, the man in front of her had been wearing this before the accident.

She wrapped it around her leg and tied it to the wound, cursing and biting back tears as the pain was almost too much to bear. She breathed out a hard puff of air, setting her jaw as she tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge. She cursed as she climbed her way back into the back and threw her legs out of the car.

She looked around once more to make sure that she couldn't see anyone around before stepping out of the car. She had two options on where to go: venture into the forest, or try to climb up the hill back to the highway. The hill looked like hell, but taking into consideration the fact that she needed to get help, it was probably the smarter option.

She wasn't sure where she was, where they had taken her. The only thing she knew was that she wasn't in Oklahoma anymore. She glanced around, definitely not. Doing her best to ignore the pain she made her way to the ascent. In reality it probably wasn't very high at all, but damn did it look like the biggest mountain she'd ever seen at that moment.

It wasn't easy to keep pressure off her leg as she climbed, she sure as hell felt that she was doing a crappy job at it. She sat when she made it to the top, grasping her still bleeding leg. She had to get it to stop bleeding or else things weren't going to end very well for her. She had to get help, both with her leg and with helping her get safe. Cops. She should try to find the police station, right? Or a hospital? Something, she had to find someone who was willing to help.

She stood, a newfound determination finding its way inside of her. It was okay. She can be okay. She just needs to find help. But as soon as she stepped to the edge of the road that hope and courage that she felt a moment prior was completely gone. Where the fuck had they taken her? She was in what appeared to be a city and everywhere she looked there were signs and posters in a language she didn't recognize. She had no idea where she was, but she wasn't in America anymore, that was blatantly and painfully obvious.

She wanted to scream, cry out to god. But nothing came out of her mouth, she hadn't realized they had been on the move that long. She supposed that had to do with the fact that most of the time when she had woken up they had either put a foul smelling rag to her face or forced disgusting white powder down her throat. Both ended in her becoming unconscious.

"Well, hey, darlen'." A man startled her, shoving a gun deep into her back. Her eyes widened. No. No, this couldn't be happening. She was close, _so close_ to being free. The world buzzed and went on in front of her, people rushed about and tried to get where they were headed. Everything looked so normal, everything looked okay. So why couldn't she be, too? How come she had to draw the short straw? Why her?

"P-please." She said, so quiet it was barely even audible. She wanted to scream, get someone to notice what was happening. Come to her aid, but she couldn't. She had to stay quiet if there was any chance of her escaping. If she screamed he would more than likely just shoot her, she didn't want to die.

"Move, whore." The man behind her said, pushing her forward. He was practically carrying her because the pain in her leg had become so intense she could barely walk, but he didn't say anything about it. He made sure to have himself be close enough that nobody could see the gun. But why would it matter if they saw the gun? Couldn't they see the stream of drying blood covering the majority of her leg and permanently staining her shoe? Couldn't they see the blood that matted her hair and had fallen down the side of her face? Couldn't they see the tears that streaked her cheeks? Her bloodshot eyes? Was she so feeble, unimportant and worthless that no one cared to stop them and ask what had happened? She supposed she probably was.

She cooperated, hoping anybody would confront them, save her. But no one did. They got a few strange looks, but other than that nothing. Absolutely nothing. He pushed her into an alley between two large buildings, shoving her against the gate at the end. She stared up at his face and saw nothing but anger and… and she knew that look in his eye. The same look all the other men had right before they… Oh, lord.

"I-I'm sorry, please." She begged and apologized, even though she knew that she had absolutely no reason to be sorry. It wasn't like she had caused the crash. Hell, she was obviously much more hurt than this man, so did he blame her?

He flipped her and pushed her against the building on their right, pressing his body flat against hers so that she couldn't move, "Nobody cares what happens to you." He growled into her ear, hand running up her thigh and pulling her dress over her hips.

She tried to fight, push him away, but her head throbbed, her ribs hurt and she wasn't even using her right leg anymore, "No, please… Please!" She screamed, tears streaming down her face once more as he stuck his hand down her panties.

"Nobody cares about your screams, little girl. Nobody." He groaned as he bit her neck and shoved two fingers into her unprepared pussy. She cried out and he slapped his hand over her mouth, "But that doesn't mean I want to hear it all." She was still sore from the last time, and she knew her panties were already stained red, too.

She squeezed her eyes shut as he pulled down her underwear and pulled away long enough to pull his own pants down his hips. He grabbed her before she fell to the ground, pinning her back into the hard, brick wall.

"No, no, please." She pleaded once again as he readied himself at her entrance, "No!" She screamed out as he forcefully thrust his way inside of her. Strangled cries left her throat as he set a brutal pace, shoving her harder and harder into the wall with each thrust of his hips. He scraped his fingernails up her side until he got high enough to roughly grab her breast, pinching her nipple hard between his fingers.

"Mine." He grunted into her ear, scratching her back hard enough she was sure it had broken skin. She took in a deep breath, she had to try one more time. Someone had to care, give a shit that this was happening right before their eyes. Someone had to have a heart, didn't they? Someone. One more chance, that's what she told herself, one more chance to be heard. She opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she could, someone had to hear. God, anyone.

But it didn't seem like anyone did as he grabbed her mouth again and slapped his hips into hers more and more sloppily. He was losing rhythm and he was growing larger inside of her, he began to twitch and she knew it was only a matter of moments before it would be over. Well, not really. Who the hell knew what he was going to do after he was finished. Would he take her to where they were headed before the crash? Would he just kill her? What was going to happen now?

She was snapped from her thoughts when she suddenly crumpled to the ground. He hadn't cum, had he? She didn't think so, she hadn't felt it. But she just curled in on herself and sobbed, waiting for whatever was to happen next. But no one touched her, nothing happened. She slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes only to be met by a sight that was the last thing she had expected.

There was a strange man on top of the man that was just inside of her. Her mind felt fuzzy as she found it hard to understand what was happening. Her assialant was begging for mercy. She almost laughed, wasn't she just doing that? She watched for a moment as her eyelids started to get heavy, the man with the grey hoodie and black gloves was punching him, yelling at him. Her ears ringed and she choked back a sob, she couldn't pass out. If she did who knew what would happen, what this new man would do to her. She couldn't let herself pass out.

She reached a hand down and squeezed the large cut on her leg, she knew that it had caused it to start bleeding again, but she didn't care. The pain made her eyes widen and her stomach churn, she might throw up. But anything would be better than passing out and not having any sense of what happened when she was under.

"Hey, hey! Stop that!" She heard the man yell as he ran over to her and pulled her hand away from her bloody leg. He pulled her dress down in an attempt to make her feel any shred of dignity and tried to pick her up. No. She wouldn't let him take her. She wouldn't let him hurt her, too. She had to fight, fight!

She thrashed against him and screamed, "No, don't! Let me go!" He quickly withdrew his hands and raised them in surrender. Sobs wracked her entire body as she tried to press herself as close to the wall as she could.

"It's okay, doll." He said softly, "I'm not going to hurt you."

She didn't believe him, not for a minute, "I-I don't want to." She whimpered, holding her stomach as another wave of nausea coursed through her body.

"I know." He spoke calmly, hoping to get her to calm down enough to even raise her head, "I know, that's why I'm gonna take you to the hospital, okay? They can help you."

"Where am I?" She asked, fearful for the answer.

"Bucharest." He answered simply. Where the hell is Bucharest? Her breathing increased and her whole body felt like it was on fire, "Romania." That was the last straw for her as she heaved out what little was in her stomach onto the ground between them. It was too much. Too much, she didn't know how to handle it. What should she do? What were you supposed to do in a situation like that?

As soon as she appeared to be done he tried picking her up again, but got the same reaction. Her screaming at him to let her go as she fought against his attempts to help, “If you won’t let me help you up I’m going to have to call an ambulance.”

“You can’t do that!” She yelled, actually looking at him for the first time. The man kneeling in front of her had dark hair that went to his shoulders, his expression was one of worry and sympathy. He was wearing a blue baseball cap and a red shirt underneath a grey denim jacket that had brown on the inside. He was a large man, but his face was soft. She looked into his blue eyes and saw no hostility, no anger toward her. His eyes weren’t glossed over and dilated like the other man’s had been when he looked at her, either. But she still knew she couldn’t trust him.

“You have to see a doctor.” He said, visually examining her wounds. Her face heated with embarrassment as she became aware of her lack of clothing. Her panties were around her ankles and her dress was ridden up to the point where he could see everything. She carefully reached down, never taking her eyes off of the strange man in front of her. She gently pulled her underwear up her legs, being careful not to touch her cut. She tried to pull her dress down, but it was too short to do very much. If it had been her choice she would have never picked something so short. He slowly took off his jacket and tentatively tried to hand it to her, “Take this.”

She reached out her hand, almost withdrawing it as he shifted. But when he didn’t make any other movements she quickly snatched the clothing out of his hand and wrapped it around herself. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until the warmth of his coat surrounded her, she shivered and tried to stand. Her knees buckled underneath her weight and she fell, only for him to quickly react and grab under her armpits to hold her up.

She pushed against him, “Don’t touch me!” Just the feeling of having anyone’s hands on her made her cringe and want to fold into herself.

“Alright. Alright, just take a breath.” He said, slowly withdrawing his hands when he was convinced she was stable leaning against the building. She looked down and stared at his black combat boots, afraid to even look into his eyes again, “You’re okay now.” Silent tears fell from her eyes as shame encased her, “Hey.” He said in the softest tone anyone had spoken to her in for a long time, “My name’s Bucky. What’s yours?”

“Marlowe.” She answered quietly, voice cracking.

“You’re very hurt, Marlowe.” He said, reaching out his hand for her, “You need medical attention.”

“You don’t understand.” She whimpered, “I’m not supposed to be here. I- I don’t even know how I got here, last thing I remember I was still in America. I have no idea how I got here.”

“He kidnapped you?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the unconscious man that was lying on the ground.

“Not him. He was just the man that took me from the others after I got off the train.”

“You need to talk to the police. You need help.” He said, trying to get her to come with him.

That's what she had initially thought she wanted, but no. She couldn't go there, they would ask too many questions. Questions that she couldn’t and/or wouldn’t be able to answer, “I can’t. I-if I go to the police, or the hospital for that matter, they’re going to make me go to the embassy or something. They’re going to ask me what happened, how I got here.” She took a deep breath as her brows furrowed, “What they did to me. I can’t go.”

“If you don’t go you could die.”

“But if I do they’ll find me! If they find me I’d be better off dead anyway. I don’t have anything back there, no family, no home, no one that gives a shit that I’m gone. I’m not sure it’s worth the risk of even trying to get back.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“The first thing I have to do is get my leg patched. It hasn’t completely stopped bleeding since the accident.”

“Accident?”

She nodded, “I was in a car accident with that man and another. The other one didn’t make it. That’s how I hurt my head and my leg, I think someone hit us, but I don’t know. I lost consciousness on impact and woke up in a clearing.”

“You’re not going to go to the hospital?” He asked one more time.

“No.” Was her only response.

He sighed and shifted his feet for a moment before looking at her again, “Then at least let me help clean up your wounds.”

“Why would you do that?” She asked in disbelief. This had to be some kind of a trap. There was no possible way this man was willing to help her out of the goodness of his heart. He had to have some kind of an ulterior motive. He wanted something from her and she didn’t want to figure out what that was.

“Because you need help and I can’t good consciously leave you out here all alone when there are people looking for you.” He shook his head, “I saw what that man was doing to you,” She lowered her head in shame, she couldn’t believe she was so weak that she had let them hurt her like they had, “Knowing that if I left you that could happen again? I can’t do that.” She didn’t respond as she hugged her stomach, “You don’t have to be ashamed, Marlowe, what happened wasn’t your fault. What he did to you wasn’t your fault. They’re sick. Demented. But I’m not like them, I don’t want to hurt you. I’d never hurt someone like that.”

“How can I be sure you’re not lying?” She asked, unsure. She really wanted to be able to believe him.

He slowly reached behind him and pulled out a gun. She knew it, she fucking knew it. She knew that she couldn’t trust him. She can’t trust anyone. Her eyes got large and she raised her hands, afraid that he was going to shoot her, “No, no.” He said, holding the muzzle, “Take it. If I try anything, you have my permission to shoot me.” He was insane if he thought she would fall for that. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. He reached out and grabbed her hand, she tried to pull away but he was stronger. He wrapped her palm around the gun and let go. Her arm fell to her side as she gripped the gun tight.

He stayed silent for a moment, but right as he was about to speak she raised the gun and pointed it at his chest, putting her finger on the trigger, “Get back.” He opened his mouth but she cut off his words, “Now!” He did as she said and took a few steps back as he raised his hands.

“It’s alright now.” He said, “You can keep the gun and the coat after I get you patched up, okay? Just let me help you, I want to help you.”

The gun wavered for a few moments before she lowered her arm. What did she really have to lose at this point? What could he do that hadn’t already been done to her? Was it even possible for anybody to hurt her more than she already was? She didn’t see how that was possible.

“Okay.”


	2. Patched Up

Marlowe held the gun close as Bucky wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her walk into the large apartment complex. He stared at the ‘out of commission’ sign on the elevator and cursed, perfect fucking timing for the damn elevator to be broken. They took the steps slowly, one at a time. He had offered to carry her, but she had strongly turned down his offer. It was difficult enough letting him have his arm around her, she wouldn’t put herself in an even more vulnerable position.

She was impressed with herself for being able to make all of the steps considering he lived on the fourth floor. She was half bent over in pain by the time they got to his door. Her abdomen hurt almost as much as her leg at that moment, but she didn’t say anything. Although, she was pretty sure he could tell how much pain she was in.

He unlocked the door and quickly ushered her in, helping her sit on the couch before running to grab his first aid kit. She couldn’t get comfortable as the pain from where that man had abused her stung terribly when she sat. She folded herself in half as she held her stomach, burying her face in her knees. It hurt too much, she couldn’t take it, she didn’t know what to do.

“Hey! Hey, are you alright?” He ran up to her, worried she had passed out. She shook her head, she was the furthest thing from “alright”.

She wanted to tell him as much, but she bit her tongue and raised her head, “I’m fine.” She tried to run a hand through her hair but hissed when she touched the cut on her scalp. The source of her bloody face, she could only assume.

He didn’t say anything about her blatant lie as he dragged the wooden coffee over in front of her and sat on it, “I’m going to touch your leg.” He warned her so that she hopefully wouldn’t fight and scream at him. She nodded her head as he reached down and grabbed her ankle, setting her foot down on his knee. He slowly untied the bloody scarf, apologizing when she whimpered and grabbed at her knee. He opened a couple of alcohol swabs and cleaned up her leg as much as he could before reaching down and grabbing a bottle of whiskey, “I have to sterilize the wound.”

Her bottom lip trembled as tears threatened to fall even though he hadn’t even really done anything yet, “It’s gonna hurt.”

“Like hell.” He told her truthfully, “But this is what we have to do if we’re not going to the hospital.” He raised an eyebrow, giving her one final chance to change her mind about going and getting more professional help.

She frantically shook her head, “No hospital.” As long as it helped, she didn’t care how much it hurt. So long as she didn’t have to go and explain what had happened to a bunch of strangers. Strangers that would send her god only knows where.

He massaged the girl’s tense calf for a minute before speaking, “Just take a deep breath, it’ll be over before you know it.” She nodded and closed her eyes. She leaned her head back against the couch and did her best to even out her breathing, preparing herself for the immense burn that was about to happen. He untwisted the cap, "Deep breath."

She breathed in only to fist the material of the armrest and throw her head back as he poured the liquid over her shin. She instinctively tried to pull her leg away as she cried out, but he held her firm. It hurt more than she thought it would, she expected it to burn, but  _ damn _ did it burn. Hot, fresh tears poured out of her eyes in a stream as she tried to compose herself.

"I-is that it?" She asked, praying to god that the throbbing would subside.

He started gently massaging her leg again as he examined the wound, "It's deep. You need stitches." It looked bad and he needed to get it closed and bandaged before an infection had a chance to set in.

"I'm scared." She whimpered, wrapping his coat around her tighter. She just wanted it to be over fast. She was well aware that stitching it wouldn't be very quick.

"I know, doll." He said sympathetically, "But we have to do it."

"Why do you keep calling me 'doll'?" She asked, confused by the pet name.

He shrugged, "I don't know." He sighed, looking her over once again. She really needed to have gone to the hospital, but he couldn't find it in himself to make her go, and he sure as hell wasn't about to just turn around and leave her.

When he first heard her scream he instinctively ran in her direction, having to help. When he turned the corner and saw her pinned up against the wall with that man pounding into her he almost turned around, disgusted for a moment when he thought that they were just fucking in public. But when she reared back and actually screamed the word "help"? He wasted absolutely no time in running down that dank alley and pulling that disgusting man off of her.

He had dug his knee into the man's crotch and immediately punched his face, not feeling bad when he felt his nose crack under the impact. He had yelled in his face, told him how fucked up he was, how if he ever saw him again he would be as good as dead. Then he knocked his head against the concrete ground rendering him unconscious.

He looked at her face, which had dried blood connecting her hair to her cheek and a fading black eye. Her lip was quivering and her eyebrows were scrunched up in pain and fear. Her neck had a nasty red bite mark on it and he remembered that her arms had been littered with scratches and bruises. Her legs were pretty much in the same boat as her arms, except the larger gash that he was currently tending to. By the way she kept holding her stomach, he couldn't tell if her ribs hurt or if her stomach did from what that man had been doing to her.

He had to hold himself back from killing that man then and there. But as he held the gun to his head, he couldn't pull the trigger. He didn't want to kill anyone else, even if he did deserve it. He would if he absolutely had to, but he hoped his threat would be sufficient enough for now. As he stared into the eyes of that monstrosity he wanted nothing more than to shoot, bring that little girl justice, but he didn't want to become what he was before. He was determined to be better.

He felt for this girl, he really did. He'd been taken far away by an evil organization called Hydra, and she had been taken far away by what he could only assume to be human traffickers. He was forced to endure terrible violations and torture beyond belief and so had she. He understood how broken and unclean she felt. He knew it was completely different, but they had used her body for their own personal gain and Hydra had used his for theirs. He understood how unclean she felt, distrusting of everyone around her, because he felt that exact same way every second of every day.

He wished he didn't have to cause her any more pain than she was already in, but he didn't have a choice if she was going to make it out of this. As much as he wished she would've just gone and seen a doctor he thinks he can understand why she didn't want to. She had been through something more traumatic than he could ever imagine, she didn't want to have to relive it over and over and over again as she was forced to tell her story to everyone she'd have to go through. He was certain that'd be a hell of a lot of people.

It did seem like a lot of heartache to go back to a place where nobody was waiting for her, if she had been telling the truth there. From the look in her eyes, he saw no reason why she'd lie. But he wasn't dumb, it doesn't matter how innocent someone looks, there can always be a monster hidden beneath it all.

"Bucky?" He was snapped from his thoughts when she whimpered his name. He looked up at her, unsure of how long he had sat there just rubbing her leg and looking at the cut. She had zipped up his coat and pulled the hood over her head. Honestly, the size of the thing looked ridiculous on her skinny frame, but he was pretty sure it was bringing her a slight sense of security having it engulfing her. He quickly picked up a clean towel and dabbed at her leg, not even acknowledging the fact that he had just spaced out, "Bucky?" She asked again.

He looked up at her as he reached into his bag and grabbed a sewing needle and dental floss, about ready to get her psyched up to let him do it, "What's wrong?" He asked, realizing she was hugging her stomach tight as her face flushed even paler than it already had been.

"I don't feel good." She stared in his direction as black spots started clouding her vision. She felt weightless, light headed. Her vision went black and she heard him call her name, grab onto her. She tried to say something, anything. But she couldn’t open her mouth to speak, she wasn’t even sure if she made a noise or not. Before she even realized what was happening she was out.

He held onto her shoulders, keeping her up as she lost consciousness. He cursed as he laid her down on the couch. He contemplated for a moment taking her to the hospital, but he couldn’t make himself do it. He knew how much she didn’t want to go, even if it was what was best for her. He put his fingers to her throat, checking her pulse. It was normal and her breathing was regular. She probably passed out from the pain and shock of it all.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world at that moment, it would give him a chance to get her stitched up quickly. He finished drying her leg and threaded the floss through the needle before getting to work. She didn’t sitr, didn’t move, didn’t flinch as he pierced her skin with the sharp object. He made quick work of stitching up her leg before grabbing the bandages and gauze, wrapping her leg securely with it.

He set her leg down as he finished putting on the last of the medical tape. He sighed, content that she hadn’t woken up while he was working. He pulled down the hood of the coat and examined her head. The cut looked superficial, just a lot of blood. He cleaned off her face and applied a small amount of ointment to the cut before gently setting her head back down.

He had no idea how someone could do this to her. To anyone for that matter. She looked so fragile, so broken. He had no idea what he was going to do with her once she woke up, she couldn’t stay with him that was for sure. He had enough problems of his own to have to try and deal with hers. But if she truly had no one, how could he just send her back out there all alone? Were those men looking for her right now? Was she a target?

Maybe this is something he’s supposed to do, something good. Hell, the first good thing he’s done in a long time. It wouldn't be a good idea for her to stay, though. If she did he'd be putting her in even more danger than she was already in. God, he didn't know.

He unzipped his jacket so he could get a better look at her arms and check out her ribs. It was like he thought, just various scratches and bruises on her arms, nothing that needed mending. He grabbed the tweezers out of his first aid kit and held her hand as he plucked out the few small pieces of glass that were wedged into her skin.

He looked at her face, knowing that she wouldn't want him to do what he's going to do next. He just hoped she'd stay out long enough for him to do it. He reached out his hand and touched her ribs, all up and down both sides. He didn't feel anything abnormal, so if something was wrong it was probably just bruised, nothing broken. Shit, she was  _ skinny _ . Too skinny, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd actually eaten in a while.

His eyes trailed down her legs and back up, stopping at her exposed, bloody thighs. He was about to turn his head when he noticed something. His eyebrows furrowed, he wasn't sure if she had noticed or not, but she had a pretty good sized piece of glass stuck in her inner left thigh. He moved closer, it was sticking out enough he was pretty sure he could just grab it with his fingers. He took the glove off of his hand and hesitated, he needed to get the glass out but he didn't want her to feel like he violated her considering how high up her thigh it was. But if he just left it, it could get infected.

He cursed under his breath as he ran over to the sink to wet a fresh towel before ever so slightly parting her legs. He bit his lip and looked up at her again, now  _ this _ would be the worst possible time for her to wake up. He gently wiped the blood off her thighs the best he could before slowly pinching the tip of the shard and pulling it out. He set it on the coffee table and grabbed for the dry towel as blood trickled down her thigh. He was about to reach for the bandages when he caught sight of the crimson red on her panties.

It made his stomach churn at how red her previously white panties are. He would have never looked, let alone stared as long as he did, but the sight made him wish he could just heal her. It was a stupid thought, he knew, but he wished so bad that he could just take away what those men did to her; all of it. He wished he could take away all the pain she was feeling, physical and emotional. Take away all the torture and grief they put her through.

He knew what it felt like to be taken away from everything you've ever known, be thrown into something you knew nothing about. People were evil, there was no denying that fact. The kind of unthinkable shit that people are willing to do is disgusting.

He tore his eyes away and grabbed a square white bandage. He peeled off the stick protector and applied ointment onto it. He pressed it down onto her leg before pulling her dress down and zipping back up the jacket.

He wrapped his arms under her knees and body, picking her up. He walked to his small bedroom and gently placed her on the bed. He grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her, he moved her hair out of her face and ran the pad of his thumb over the large bruise under her eye and on her cheekbone.

What was he going to do?


End file.
